uncle, rita

Okay...goddammit, we're getting ready to leave. Rita's now a Category 5 with Galveston in the crosshairs...I don't want to throw my old house in the ring against the 170mph challenger.

Problem is, the freeways have turned into parking lots with cars and gas stations running out of fuel. The evacuation people are trying to close the southbound highway exits and funnel all traffic north on both halves of the freeway but so far they haven't been able to complete that task on I-45, not to mention 290 and 59. So, we're packed up and waiting to hear that the contraflow lanes are set up. Otherwise, we'll run out of gas an hour north of Houston and have to weather the hurricane in our truck...which is such a bad idea.

In the meantime we want our friends and family to know that we're taking all the precautions we can. We have a room in the center of the house without windows and we've got water and supplies to get us through. We've got our big butch truck to get us out if there's street flooding.

David and his friends are staying here, which makes my maternal geiger counter tick a little louder but they are in a brick house and well-supplied.

The last thing to be packed will be this computer*, so for as long as the DSL line holds, I'll add updates. Please don't worry, we're tough, sensible women with cell phones and power tools.

*If I could wrap my tablesaw in a hefty bag and tuck it under my arm, I'd be taking that, too.